


new year's day

by gardensong



Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: 616 comicverse, Coming Out, Everyone loves pete, Gay Flash Thompson, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardensong/pseuds/gardensong
Summary: Peter looked as if he had literally been caught in a gale, his hair sticking up at an odd angle with no gel aiding it, and his eyes seemed a little red around the rims. He was at least dressed for the occasion, wearing a dusty blue suit and a black bowtie. It was slightly askew, and it bugged Flash for a reason he couldn’t explain. His fingers itched like he might reach out to straighten it.new years party at the osborn's does not work out how flash planned
Relationships: Peter Parker/Flash Thompson, college fivesome, mild gwenmj
Comments: 16
Kudos: 133





	new year's day

**Author's Note:**

> new year’s day by miss swift + that episode of friends where its new years and joey is like “somebody kiss me!” and chandler kisses him = this brainchild  
> thank you to @gleesquid for beta’ing and just vibing in general  
> enjoy!

Everything was fine before Peter showed up.

Norman Osborn had allowed Harry to throw his New Year’s bash on the top floor of the Osborns’ place, seeing as he would be spending his own evening at the club with New York’s finest. It seemed to Flash that every one of New York’s finest’s offspring were now here, in complete parallel to their parents, crammed into a luxury apartment that Flash and the girls had previously helped ‘party-proof.’ All paintings and heirlooms and pretty much anything that looked expensive (which was, admittedly, most of the Osborn decor) had been carried downstairs and placed neatly behind lock and key before any of the guests had time to arrive.

The decorators had done a great job, especially considering the fact that Flash hadn’t previously been aware that party decoration was a job. The idea that people got money to hang up gold streamers and dust surfaces with glitter had seemed slightly preposterous to Flash at first, but of course, people like Harry didn’t have to do that sort of thing themselves. And since those people did decorate parties for a living, the place looked spectacular and almost unrecognizable from the drab, dark room he had entered earlier in the afternoon. Also there were tables full of food littered around the area and a functioning bar with two bartenders standing near the balcony. Everything seemed to sparkle and shine, and Flash had never seen anything like it.

Gwen had helped Flash dress for the occasion, finding him an old suit of her father’s that was nothing too loud or ostentatious, and she had given him the okay with MJ’s added approval. His hair was combed back and the frills on the shirt made him feel self-conscious, but he had liked how he looked when he saw himself in the second story’s bathroom mirror.

But even so, when all the guests had arrived and the party was in full swing, he felt incredibly out of his depth. Sure, he could dress the part, but he was still just a kid from Queens who’d spent the past few months knee deep in mud and rain, and the more people fell into him, their laughs empty and free, the more he was sure he stuck out like a sore thumb. He didn’t belong here. When a particularly dazzling brunette grinned at him, her shining red mouth twisted into something sinister, he began to wish that Parker would show up once and for all because Parker was from the same dirt that Flash was whether Flash liked it or not. But of course, as the case often was with Peter, he had yet to dignify this particular gathering with his enlightened presence. 

“Where is he, anyway?” he muttered as Gwen handed him a glass and wove her arm through his.

“I’m not his keeper,” she said with a shrug, but he could tell that she was as miffed by his absence as he was.

“Oh, boo-hoo,” MJ said, dancing towards them as she read their minds. “So the boy misses out on you two party animals moping in a corner.” She tugged on Flash’s arm, pulling him out of Gwen’s grip. “He was invited, whether he makes it or not is his own business.”

“What if something’s happened?” Gwen asked, almost reluctantly. Flash knew better than to ask such a thing. Nothing ever happened to Parker. Nothing worth being late over anyway. He’d oversleep, or get caught up on the train, or time would get away from him at the Bugle, or he’d be taking endless photos of Spider-Man. Maybe that last thing was worth being late over. But the rest seemed like piss-poor excuses if you asked Flash. The guy was just unsociable and there wasn’t much to do about it. How he got girls like Gwen worrying about his well-being was beyond Flash, but he supposed it wasn't his job to understand a woman’s thinking.

MJ had dropped Flash’s sleeve and was now gripping Gwen’s wrist and staring intently into her eyes.

“Don’t be the girl standing around on the edge of a fabulous party waiting on some boy who clearly has better things to do,” she told her.

Gwen steeled herself, her pink lips coming together to form a tight line.

“You’re right,” she said. 

“I often am.” MJ grinned, her manicured nails squeezing around Gwen’s bicep. “Now let’s dance. Thompson?”

“You girls go ahead. I’m gonna look for Harr.”

“Good luck finding him,” MJ said with a knowing smile as she and Gwen shuffled towards the crowd in the center of the room. “I saw him talking much too closely with Lucy Fitzgerald not five minutes ago.”

_ Great _ , Flash thought as he lost sight of them. Even Harry was having better luck with the ladies then Flash was, and he didn't even have Flash's assets. He downed the drink Gwen had given him and set the empty glass on a table, telling himself that his inferiority complex was all in his head. Sure, everyone here was richer than anyone in his family ever had been or ever will be, and no one had worked as hard Flash’s parents did a single day of their lives, but they were still just people and he was still a football star and a soldier who was fairly good-looking. Better looking than Parker anyway.

He looked at the time displayed on the television set hung high on the far side of the room. It was half past eleven, which gave him thirty minutes to find someone to kiss at midnight.

He wound up talking to a girl in a green dress whose name might have been Tamara. She was with a group of friends, and they were all pretty friendly, and the diamonds in Tamara’s ears matched her eyes. So everything was fine.

She was asking him about some football game she seemed to recall seeing back in high school when a strong hand landed on Flash’s shoulder, followed by a voice that was much too familiar.

“What’d I miss?” Peter asked, leaning into Flash as if they were old friends. Flash stepped out of Peter’s grasp and Peter didn’t make a move to grab him again. He looked windswept, but not in the way Humphrey Bogart did in Mom’s movies. He looked as if he had literally been caught in a gale, his hair sticking up at an odd angle with no gel aiding it, and his eyes seemed a little red around the rims. He was at least dressed for the occasion, wearing a dusty blue suit and a black bowtie. It was slightly askew, and it bugged Flash for a reason he couldn’t explain. His fingers itched like he might reach out to straighten it.

“Look who decided to finally show,” Flash said, instead of saying something else.

Peter’s brow suddenly furrowed in alarm.

“It’s not midnight yet, right?”

“No, it’s not midnight yet.”

“Who’s your friend?” asked Tamara, and Peter held out his hand with a dazzling smile.

“I’m Peter,” he said amicably, then proceeded to introduce himself to everyone in the group. Flash pretended he didn’t mind.

That was the thing about Parker. He was an unsociable son of a bitch, but could turn on the charm at the tip of a hat when needed be. This was the reason no one seemed to believe him when he told them exactly who and how Parker was really, deep down.

“Have you seen Gwen around?” Peter asked Flash when introductions were made. 

“Last I saw she was with MJ --,”

“Guys!” said Harry, pushing his way through the crowd. Now there was a guy who looked like he belonged. His suit was green satin and there was not a single curl out of place on his head. He moved with the certainty of there never being an obstacle before him, his motions fluid and easy as he passed New York’s elite. “It’s almost midnight! Pete, you’re here!” He took Peter’s face in his hands and kissed his forehead savagely. Peter laughed heartily, his cheeks reddening. Flash hadn’t realized how pale he looked. He must have just gotten in from the cold . . . “And I thought this night couldn’t get any better!” Harry exclaimed happily. His pupils were a bit blown, but Flash wasn’t too surprised. Certain areas of the party definitely smelled of weed. “Let's find the girls.”

“Oh,” Flash said as Harry draped himself between Flash and Peter. “Actually, I –” What? Was hoping to kiss the girl in the green dress at midnight? If he said so outright it might become obvious that it was planned. Not at all suave or carefree. “I’ll see you later,” he told Tamara finally, and she waved him off with a bright smile.

Peter laughed as Harry lifted his legs between them, correctly assuming they could carry his weight between them. MJ and Gwen came to them, giggling and stumbling only slightly in their heels.

“Petey-O! You made it!” MJ grinned just as the ceiling lights turned on. People began to shriek excitedly and the music quieted, replaced by a live broadcast from Times Square. That meant it was one minute until midnight.

“I wouldn’t miss your company for the world,” Peter called to her over the happy shouting and laughter. “Gwendy, you’re looking radiant.”

“Thank you, Peter,” said Gwen. At the look on Peter’s face, MJ dissolved into a fit of giggles in the crook of Gwen’s neck. Harry detached himself from Flash and began to strategically amble towards MJ, oblivious to the stare-down Gwen and Peter were now having.

“There was a robbery in Times Square,” Peter began. “Spider-Man–”

Flash’s ears perked up at the mention of the web-slinger, but Gwen didn’t let Peter continue.

“Really, Peter?” she asked. “Now?”

A countdown from twenty began, the room around them reading the clock aloud in unison. A television in the corner was playing live footage from Time Square, where Peter and Spider-Man had recently been, but Flash couldn’t see it.

In a moment of desperation, Flash found himself searching for Gwen’s eye. He knew she loved Peter and not him, but she definitely did not love Peter right now. And as a matter of fact, she smiled at him, quite warmly.

Ten,

But MJ’s face was still in her neck.

Nine,

Harry was standing awfully close to the two of them, and to MJ particularly. 

Eight,

It was clear that whoever Lucy Fitzgerald was to Harry, she was now long forgotten.

Seven,

Peter was shifting his weight uncomfortably beside him.

Six,

He seemed to be in the same boat as Flash.

Five,

And why was it they always seemed to be competing for the same girl?

Four,

And why was it that Flash always lost?

Three,

(Even if he won he lost.)

Two,

MJ detached herself from Gwen finally, grinning at her blonde companion devilishly. Gwen smiled back.

One.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Party whistles were blown, and loud bangs coloured the room in confetti. Mary Jane kissed Gwen on the lips. Harry, who had reached out for MJ, stumbled and crashed into a couple behind them. Peter grabbed Flash’s arm and kissed him.

It couldn’t have lasted any longer than a second. Flash’s mouth was hanging open, and Peter’s lips pressed against his bottom lip. The shouts and squeals of the party around them became blunt, and when Peter pulled away, grinning, Flash thought he might actually be sick. His father was an alcoholic, which normally put him off drinking, but tonight he had drunk enough to feel lighter. It was all coming up now.

“Touché, Tiger!” MJ clapped delightedly. 

“I didn’t get a kiss,” Harry mourned, and MJ pouted at him exaggeratedly before planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. Everyone was acting normal. As if nothing at all had happened.

“Flash was closer,” Peter said, clapping Flash on the back. It jolted the insides of Flash’ stomach. “You okay, Thompson?”

Flash kicked into automatic, his spine going rigid, his posture straightening.

“Warn a guy next time, Parker. Jesus. What’s the big idea?”

“I was just fooling around—“ Peter began, the beguiling smile on his face drooping just a little.

“Yeah, Flash, chill,” cooed MJ, her usually smooth brow creasing with worry. “We were just messing.”

Harry was frowning, confused, and Gwen’s eyes had gone all big, like she could see right through him. Through everything.

“I’m  _ chill _ , okay, MJ?” Flash said finally. “Happy new year. I have to go to the bathroom.”

And with that he turned on his heel and dove into the celebrating crowd. Everything was too loud for him to hear his friends’ whispers, but he just knew — felt it in his gut — that they were worriedly exchanging words about him. He could practically see the stupid look on Parker’s face as Gwen slapped his arm and told him off.

Flash began to pull his suit jacket off as he fought through the party guests, music blaring from unseen speakers. He didn’t head for the bathroom, but for the exit instead. The double doors swung open before him and he fell into the hallway, his footsteps heavier than he would like. There was a small group sitting on the staircase, drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces. Rich kids.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Flash said, but they didn’t seem to hear him. “Hey!” he shouted, and that got their attention. “Get back inside or scram.”

One of the guys straightened his posture and angled himself between Flash and the girls, which was pretty brave of him. He was more of a toothpick than Harry was. “Geez, man, chill.”

“CAN PEOPLE STOP TELLING ME TO CHILL?!”

The group stared at him in stunned silence. Then they jumped into the action, hurrying down the staircase and muttering, “Lunatic,” and “Osborn’s friends are crazy.”

Flash realized his fists were clenched. He was trembling.

He turned towards the wall and leaned his head against it, trying to calm his breathing. He clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling his knuckles burn with the ferocity of it, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to hit something, he wanted to–

“Flash?”

He turned his head so quickly his neck hurt. Gwen closed the doors behind her, her brow furrowed with worry. At the sight of her, Flash felt the anger seep out of him. She looked like an angel.

“Are you alright?” she asked, approaching him easily, unafraid.

“I’m fine,” Flash said, willing his fists open. “I just needed some space. A lot of people in there, you know.”

Gwen nodded, and Flash wondered if she did know.

“I’ll wait out here with you,” she said, and leaned against the wall beside him. Flash turned so his back was to the wall, too, hoping his expression was a nonchalant one.

“That’s sweet of you, Gwen. Really. But you don’t have to.”

Gwen smiled softly. “I don’t mind,” she said. Flash believed her.

But the silence that followed unsettled him. He felt as if, with no other noises to distract her, Gwen would be able to hear his thoughts with absolute clarity. He cleared his throat desperately, but realized he had nothing to say.

“So, MJ…” he said. Gwen waved a hand noncommittally. 

“Oh, it was just a silly thing. To make Pete jealous. Mary Jane is devilish like that.”

“Oh. Okay. I mean, yeah. That was obvious.” But was it? Although Flash had become otherwise occupied at a certain point, the kiss Mary Jane and Gwen had shared had seemed far from superficial. But maybe that was just how it looked. His stomach turned as he wondered how he and Peter had looked.

“What did it feel like?” he blurted out. Gwen arched a fine eyebrow in response.

“Eugene Thompson, I will never kiss and tell,” she said, slapping his arm. Then, she folded her arms across her chest. “Which is why I won’t ask you the same thing.”

Flash ignored the heat in his stomach and bumped his shoulder against hers. “Oh, darling, it was nothing, I promise. You don’t need to worry about Parker getting between us two.”

Once again, Gwen arched an eyebrow. This time, however, she said nothing. She instead put her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. Girls always smelled nice, like flowers and sweets. At least, the girls Flash knew did. Liz’s shampoo smelled of camomile; of course, he only knew the name because he had caught a glimpse of the shampoo bottles in her bathroom one day after school.

Gwen smelled different, soft. Airy and light, like sunshine in the middle of winter.

Boys just smelled of soap and bitter aftershave. Harry wore fragrances, but he was one of few. Parker just smelled clean most of the time, although he sometimes smelled of sidewalk and sweat, like he spent all his free time running through New York’s alleyways, or tangled up in Chinatown’s fire escapes. For all Flash knew, maybe he did. Maybe that’s what tailing Spider-Man for decent pics required.

“Ready to head back in yet?” Gwen asked after a moment.

“You know what, doll? I think I am.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was close enough to it that Flash could say it in earnest. Gwen smiled, showing all her teeth, and she really was dazzling.

“You’re dazzling, you know that?” Flash said as they walked back towards the party, arm in arm.

“And you’re a charmer, Flash Thompson,” Gwen said, opening the doors before them. Then she kissed him on the cheek and lingered close, smiling.

“Was that also for Parker’s benefit?” Flash whispered.

“Not in the way you think,” she replied.

Flash had no clue as to what that could mean, but he didn’t press any further. Harry came charging into them, an open bottle of champagne in his hand, and demanded they quit canoodling like old people and start partying like young ones. 

So they heeded Harry’s instructions and headed onto the dancefloor hand in hand.

The sun was coming up. The sky was grey and white light washed over what remained of last night’s party. The double doors opened and closed, opened and closed as the last few survivors filtered out of the Osborns’, too tired in most cases to bid goodbye to the host. The host did not seem to mind. He lay sprawled out in the center of a sofa, his arms across the back of it. MJ sat on the floor beside him, head resting on his knee. On the next sofa sat Flash and Peter, with Gwen’s legs on his lap. The girls had kicked off their heels and the boys were no longer wearing their jackets or ties. Harry had taken his shirt off entirely and his chest sparkled with gold glitter; there were chunks of confetti in his curly hair.

Peter might have been sleeping.

Gwen yawned from the other end of the sofa. Flash took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet to stand in front of them all.

MJ nudged Harry’s leg and sat straighter. Peter opened one eye.

“Hey, guys,” Flash said. His arms dangled awkwardly at his sides. Gwen sidled up to Peter. He felt like Peter and Gwen were like mom and dad. Without the alcoholism and all. “I wanted to get something off my chest. New year, new me, you know?”

“If that’s what you want,” Gwen said carefully.

Flash nodded. They waited.

There were a group of three people at the end of the room, but they seemed too drunk to pay much attention to what Flash was about to say.

He swallowed.

“I’m gay.”

No one spoke until Harry said, “There’s no way Pete’s  _ that _ good a kisser—“

“Harr,” MJ said quietly.

Gwen pulled her legs off of Peter and put her feet on the floor. She was wearing tights, the thin type that seemed invisible.

“Well, Flash,” she said, her blue eyes shining. “I think I speak for everyone here when I say we love you all the same. Even more than we did, because you’re trusting us with this part of you.”

Harry nodded as she spoke. “Gwen’s right. We’re modern people.” He shrugged. “It makes no difference to me.”

“Gay people are way groovier than straight people,” said MJ.

Flash felt as if he were falling through the floor, but his friends were being nice. He chanced a look at Peter. His expression was unreadable.

“I just wanted to be upfront about it,” said Flash.

Peter nodded.

“Okay,” said Flash. “So that’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Mary Jane jumped to her feet and hugged him.

“We love you, you big lug. Women everywhere are weeping, however. I just hope you know.”

“Maybe for you I’d make an exception,” Flash joked, but only because he knew it would never happen. MJ slapped his chest playfully and kissed his cheek.

“I know some fellas,” she said, squeezing his arm. “Some clubs, too. I’ll hook you up.”

“That’s… not necessary,” said Flash, hoping MJ wouldn’t bring men to his door now that she knew. “But also, no one can know. Uh, the army…”

He didn’t need to continue. MJ’s face grew somber. Maybe even more somber than he had ever seen her. MJ Watson wasn’t a very somber girl.

“Of course,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry."

“We won’t say a word,” agreed Gwen.

“To a single soul,” Harry swore.

Once again, Peter remained quiet. Even Gwen seemed uneasy by now. Flash had never figured Peter to be prejudiced. In fact, if it weren’t for one very important factor, Peter would be the first person Flash would expect to be supportive.

He was mad, Flash realized. He was angry Flash had let Peter kiss him when it was supposed to be a joke and now the joke was up. It wasn’t funny anymore. It was wrong.

Flash felt sick, and then angry, and then sick all over again.

“Thanks, guys. It means a lot.”

“Oh, fuck,” said Harry suddenly. Everyone turned to him, startled. “Not your thing, Flash – love you, buddy – but I just realized. If dad finds out I let people out onto the balcony he’s gonna flip out.” He wriggled on the sofa to look over his shoulder. “I gotta get those bottles in.”

“I got you covered,” Flash said instantly. “I need some air, anyway.”

“Peter can go with you,” said Gwen.

Peter frowned.

Well. Flash wasn’t going to wait around for Peter to decide if he was going to deck him or not, so he grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the sofa and headed for the balcony.

There was a bucket out there full of ice, so he began piling up glasses next to it. He didn’t have much of a plan for this clean-up, but the air was crisp and cold and felt good against the heat rolling off of him in waves.

Then Peter joined him, and it was all for nothing. As soon as the balcony door opened, Flash turned away. He knew who it was, could sense it. Peter didn’t say anything for a moment. He didn’t bother helping with the bottles, either.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

Flash’s hand tightened around the neck of a champagne bottle. “It’s okay,” he lied.

“Gwen doesn’t seem to think so,” Peter huffed. Flash put his bottle down beside the bucket and when he turned around, Peter was standing there. “I’m sorry,” he said again, but it wasn’t the right kind of apology. There were black circles under his eyes, but Flash was used to seeing them on Parker’s face. They were practically a part of him by now. “It’s just not making sense to me,” Peter continued, shaking his head. “What about Liz?”

“What about her?”

“You and me…” Peter stopped. “You were jealous, dude.”

“Yeah,” Flash agreed.

“And now MJ. And Gwen! Gwen! I was  _ so _ sure you liked Gwen.”

“Gwen’s great. I like her just fine.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped and he raked a hand through his awful, ugly, brown, untidy hair.

“Then I’m sorry,” he sighed, “but I just don’t get it.”

Flash snorted. And  _ he _ was supposed to be the genius.

This didn’t seem to be quite the answer Peter was expecting. In fact, he seemed to, for once, be at a loss for words. Flash continued tidying, and Peter followed him.

“Have you ever… with a guy?” he asked, stealing the glass Flash was reaching out to take. Flash closed his hand around cold air. “Not counting, well, you know.” Flash shook his head and took the glass Peter offered him. He clenched his jaw. “Then how do you know something like that?”

Flash managed to set the glass down before his hands really began to shake. He turned to look at Peter, at that stupid look on his face.

“I don’t have to tell you any of this,” he said, trying his best to keep his voice level because he was not his father. “This is my business, not yours. You’re always—“ he stopped himself, because he could feel the ugliness building in his chest. “I can’t stand you, Parker.”

“Okay. I get it.” Peter held his hands up in defense. “We’re not friends. Sorry I tried.”

“You’re only trying because you feel sorry for me.”

“Maybe I am! Maybe for a moment there I forgot what a piece of work you are!”

“Oh, I’m a piece of work? That’s rich,” Flash said. He felt red, all of him red. “Have you  _ met _ you? You’re intolerable!”

“Oh, Eugene learned some big words!” 

“That— that’s what I’m talking about!” It was getting lighter out. A taxi rode past on the street below. It was a miracle Flash was managing to hold himself back. His whole body was vibrating. “You may have everyone else fooled, but not me,” he said. I know exactly how much of an asshole you really are.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” Peter scowled, and Flash realized he believed it. 

“No one knows anything about you, Parker! You’re never here! You know, Gwen defends you when you disappear to god-knows-where, but sooner or later she’s gonna get tired of it and see you for the coward you really are! Because it is cowardly! Keeping people who  _ love you _ at an arms length is cowardly.” Flash took a deep breath. “And I know some things about you. I know about your uncle. And I know you blame yourself. And I know that your aunt would do anything for you. And you her. And you’re so lucky to have her, Parker, really. And I know how much of a geek you are, and I know you’re acting almost all the time.”

“Acting,” Peter repeated. His brown eyes were wide, but his bushy eyebrows were drawn together.

“Takes one to know one,” Flash said, quieter than he expected to.

“I’m not—“

“I mean the anger,” Flash interrupted. And because he could no longer stand to look Peter in the eye, he turned towards the edge of the balcony and set his hand on the stone. It was freezing, but so were Flash’s hands, so it all worked out. “I’m angry…” he said, “all the damn time. And I’m willing to bet you are, too.”

Peter stood beside him. He placed his hands on the stone of the balcony, too, his left beside Flash’s right. Their hands were so different; Flash’s were wide but not as long as Peter’s, and Peter’s fingers were almost boney in contrast to Flash’s. Peter’s hands were turning blue.

“Liz, MJ, Gwen,” Peter said. His voice distracted Flash from the stupid idea of reaching out and placing his own hand over Peter’s. But then he understood Peter’s tone, and what he meant to say.

Flash looked at him.

“You figured it out yet?”

Peter looked stunned at his own realization.

“You hate me,” he said.

Flash shrugged. “You’re alright.”

Peter blinked, frozen in place. Flash almost enjoyed the expression he was wearing. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Peter so dumbstruck. 

“We’re not even friends,” he managed to say.

That ruined it. Flash looked out at the street below.

“No,” he said. “Guess we’re not.”

Peter cleared his throat, suddenly snapping out of it. He took one step towards Flash, and then another step back.

“When I kissed you— I didn’t mean—“

“I know,” Flash said before Peter could go any further. “It’s… it’s whatever.” He did not feel as flippant as whatever.

“Okay. Well. I… think I’m gonna go back inside?” It sounded like a question.

Flash didn’t answer it. As soon as he heard the door close, however, he leaned his forehead against the cool of the balcony.

New year, new me. What an ass.

It was time to go. The cleaning crew had arrived before Norman, and Flash wished he could give them the day off. He hoped Harry would at least tip them generously for working on a holiday.

“You guys could totally stay,” Harry said as Peter and Flash put on their jackets. “The house is big enough. We could have a movie marathon.”

“As tempting as that sounds, Harr, I have a lady waitin’ on me back home,” said Peter. He meant his aunt, not Gwen. Gwen had already left for an early breakfast with her father.

“Yeah, I gotta see my family,” agreed Flash. He hoped his mom was in a good mood.

“So you’re both heading to Queens? Let me grab you a taxi.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—,” began Flash, but Peter put a hand on his arm.

“If the man wants to get us a taxi, let him get us a taxi.”

As Harry went off to find a phone, Flash frowned at Peter simply because this was so out of character for him — Parker hated charity. That was when he noticed the extra layer of exhaustion that had fallen over Peter’s features. His eyes looked glassy, dark eyelids drooping to a close. He looked like shit.

Flash lowered his voice. “Are you sure? I mean, I think he wants us to share.”

“Why? Is gay contagious? Sorry, bad joke. I would share a cab with JJJ himself right now.”

“Oh. Okay,” said Flash, too tired to keep the hurt out of his voice. At least his expression remained stoney.

Peter suddenly straightened, his eyes widening as far as they were able.

“No, I didn’t mean—,”

“Done!” said Harry, rubbing his hands together as he approached. Harry somehow managed to look completely awake. If it weren’t for the slightly manic glint in his eyes, Flash wouldn’t think he’d been up all night at all. “Wait, isn’t MJ from your neighborhood, Pete?”

Hope sparked in Flash’s chest. MJ could definitely be a buffer between them. Peter wouldn’t have to suffer through his solitary company.

Peter shrugged. “Kind of. But I saw her skedaddle half an hour ago.”

Drat. Oh well. Flash’s guard was down too low today anyway and MJ might manage to guess his second embarrassing secret if she were stuck in a cab between the two of them.

They said goodbye to Harry ten minutes later and the elevator ride down served as a pessimistic prequel to what the taxi ride was about to be. The silence was awkward and just before the doors dinged open, Flash wondered if Peter had fallen asleep on his feet.

He had not, or if he had, he jerked awake at the ding so it didn’t matter. He walked out ahead of Flash, maybe to stay as far away from him as possible, but when he reached the taxi he did something odd. He held the back door open and ushered Flash inside. Unsure of what was going on exactly, Flash entered the back of the taxi. Peter crawled in beside him, then gave his address, and then Flash’s. How the hell did Parker know where Flash lived?

After that, they fell into silence again. The traffic wasn’t that bad, but Queens was still a ways away from Harry’s place. He would never have paid the fare on a regular day, but since it was Harry’s treat, he decided to enjoy it. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window, feeling the car rumble beneath him.

Peter put his hand on Flash’s.

His fingers were freezing, still, whereas Flash’s had warmed up since the balcony. He turned to Peter in confusion, wishing death on the butterflies in his stomach.

“Hey,” Peter said. His lips were pale.

“What?”

“I didn’t mean it.” Peter’s eyes were earnest, past the sleep deprivation, and his voice was hoarse with sleep. “I don’t mind sharing a cab with you. And we are friends. If I didn’t fuck it up, I mean.”

Flash stared at him.

He’d known Peter since elementary school, and he had changed alongside him. He was still serious, and angry, and a huge nerd, but he was also fiercer, more Peter than he had ever been before.

Flash hated that he liked him so much.

But also, he thought, when Peter squeezed his hand, he didn’t hate it at all.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! peterflash 2020!


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